The Knitting Game
by threebagsfulled
Summary: When Penelope blackmail's Derek into attending a Fiber Festival with her, they stumble across a dead body! The question is, why are people dying?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

* * *

><p>Some of you will recognize my OC from other stories. Be kind, yes, he's a little bit of a fish out of water here, but I've missed him! For those of you haven't met Agent Jade D' Orleans before I could be bribed to repost his earlier stories!...<p>

This story was written for a real knitting game taking place on the social knitting website, Ravelry . Wanna play? Come join us. The name of the pattern is, oddly enough, The Knitting Game!

* * *

><p>The Knitting Game<p>

Chapter 1

The Dark Side of the Moon

_The ballroom was crowded. Jammed to capacity. Mostly women, but there were a few men. Liz Nolan's glittering dark eyes picked them out, one after another. She hated the fact that most of them were gay. It was wrong. Disrespectful. Knitting was an old and honorable profession and shouldn't be sullied this way. Her full red lips pressed tightly together as one of her craft's youngest rising star designers, Padraic Wilson, sat down beside her, his eyes bright with barely suppressed excitement. She studied his square plain face and thought, if I were going to kill someone I would start with you ... _

"Oh my God, Derek! I can not_ believe_ we're really here!" Penelope Garcia exclaimed excitedly, turning her head from side to side so fast that her companion thought she might actually hurt herself while trying to see everything at once.

"Easy there, baby girl," he said, swallowing down an amused laugh. "Deep breaths. None of this is going anywhere." At least not soon enough to suit him... He took a quick glance around and nearly shuddered. How he had agreed to come with her on this little weekend jaunt he still wasn't sure except it had something to do with one drink too many, and the threat of some pictures of him, Photoshop and the internet... He glanced up at the banner hanging from the third floor balcony of the hotel's atrium. "Welcome attendees to the Association of Fiber Festivals East Coast Extravaganza!" Oh yay. Two fun filled days of … whatever it was you _did_ at a fiber festival.

And then a voice behind them exclaimed, "Pen you made it!"

Derek had a quick impression of creamy white skin, green eyes and a mop of curly brown hair right before the owner of the above enveloped him in a bone crunching hug right after letting go of Penelope.

"Oh my god," the stranger announced once she relinquished her hold on him, "you're even more gorgeous than Pen said!"

"Uh...?"

"Derek, this is Maggie McDowell. Maggie... _this_ is Derek Morgan."

Maggie grinned broadly. "Well of course he is. How many Chocolate Gods could there be on this planet!"

"One!" Garcia asserted.

It was going to be a _really _long weekend...

"So, are you all checked in?" Maggie asked winking at him.

"Yup," Derek answered.

"Oooh, a man of few words! Pen, please find me one just like him!" Maggie exclaimed.

"No can do, they broke the mold after him."

"Ah well, it's not like I have time these days for a man, anyway." The woman said laughing and the two friends started chatting excitedly about the sudden take off of Maggie's business, giving Morgan a chance to study Penelope's friend.

Maggie McDowell was a pleasantly round woman of medium height. She was slightly overweight and not overly concerned about it. Dressed in an ankle length dark blue broom skirt, white t-shirt, and blue and black plaid Converse sneakers she had a knitted turquoise kerchief knotted loosely around her neck. Morgan guessed she was somewhere in her early thirties. She had the self assured air of a woman who genuinely liked herself and was content, which made sense from what Pen had told him on the drive from Quantico to Greensboro, North Carolina. Maggie had just made it big after years of hard work as a knitting designer. Really big. Her company, "Maggie, Mags (and sometimes Michael)" was going to be featured in the Fall issue of_ "Haute,"_ the world's leading fashion magazine.

"He was so pissed off, I thought he was going to kill me!" Maggie was just saying when Morgan tuned back in to their conversation.

"Who tried to kill you?" Morgan demanded going into FBI agent mode instantly.

"No one," Maggie assured him patting his arm gently quite aware of what he did for a living. "Not literally. It's just... Malcolm...Malcolm Edwards," she added, like that was a name he should know, "he was so sure he had the magazine spread that he about went off the deep end when he heard they'd given it to me."

"You're sure he didn't threaten you?" Morgan demanded.

"Quite sure," she said patting his arm again. "Oh!" she added, "look at the time. We're going to be late! Good thing my table is reserved or we'd never get good seats!"

"Good seats?" Morgan echoed, a sinking feeling starting up in his chest.

"For the fashion show!" Penelope exclaimed.

Oh great...

Abbey Kincaid looked around the ballroom and nibbled on her bottom lip. She had no idea where to sit and to just plonk herself down at a table where she didn't know anybody...well, she just couldn't do it. She drifted slowly deeper into the room, there! One lonely chair at the same table as Gerta Meier, a fellow dyer and almost friend. She smiled tentatively at her and was rewarded with a big smile in return.

"Abbey!" the slightly drunk woman exclaimed, "Join us, sweetie!" Relieved, Abbey sat down, exchanged quick air kisses with her and then looked to see who else was already sitting at the table. Oh no. There, just two chairs down, watching her with a smirk on his face, sat Malcolm Edwards. Her fists clenched involuntarily. What she wouldn't give to wipe that smirk off his face, permanently!

The lights dimmed.

"Maggie," Penelope whispered. "calm down!"

"I can't!" Maggie whispered back, wiggling with excitement in her seat.

"Why not? You've had things in fashion shows before!"

"It's not the show it's...oh, you'll see!"

Morgan shook his head and sipped at the beer a waiter had brought him.

"Tell me!"

Maggie looked around, then leaned in closer. "Mags is here..."

"Where?" Penelope asked looking around wildly.

"Not here, here, but... you know,_ here!_"

Morgan watched them mystified.

"She's...oh!" Pen's hand flew to her mouth. "Maggie you mean -"

Maggie nodded her head.

"Oh...my...god!" Penelope squealed. "Maggie!"

"Shhhhh... no one knows!"

Now it was Penelope's turn to squirm in her seat.

Morgan took another sip of his beer. What the – wait.

Mags... as in the Mags of "Maggie, Mags (and sometimes Michael)"? He raised his eyebrows. Wow! No wonder Maggie and Pen were so excited. What no one in the industry knew, but which Pen had told him earlier, was that the Mags part of "Maggie, Mags (and sometimes Michael)" was Margarithe Drummond one of_ "Haute"_ magazines top models. If she was here and no one knew it, that meant the magazine had paid her way, which in turn meant it had brought _all_ it's top models, which also meant they were the ones who would be doing Maggie's photo shoot tomorrow...

Morgan found himself looking around wishing he knew what this Malcolm Edwards dude looked like because when the models came down the runway in just a few minutes the cat was gonna be out of the bag and he was gonna be one seriously pissed off dude.

"Ladies and gentlemen, madame's et monsieur's," a voice said from the side of the long catwalk that divided the ballroom, "... from Paris, France I give you the_ "Haute"_ models..." A gasp went up from the crowd, there was a moment of stunned silence then a voice rang out "what the _hell!"_ and then the lights dimmed and two tall figures stepped out from behind the heavy red velvet curtains.

"Around his neck M'ael is wearing the latest fabulous neckerchief design from "Maggie, Mags (and sometimes Micheal)" worked in a lace weight blend of Merino and silk yarn from Abbey's Castle. His quarter length cabled jacket was designed by Aiden Kavanaugh also worked in yarn from Abbey's Castle in an Aran weight blend of Merino and Cashmere.

"Jade is wearing an ankle length traveling scarf from "Maggie, Mags (and sometimes Michael)." This complex scarf will delight the most avid knitter. Worked in Blue Faced Leicester from Boil and Bubble. His full length coat was designed by Padraic Wilson for Malcolm Edwards. It was worked in a cashmere blend from Big City Unlimited."

The room fell silent as the two gorgeous males stalked their way down the runway. "Haute's" number one and number two models. You could have heard a pin drop...and then someone started clapping and within seconds the sound was deafening. And then someone yelled, "Alright Maggie! You go girl!" and then, very clearly from directly behind them, Morgan heard someone say, "Did you _hear _that? They gave the credit for that gorgeous coat to_ Padraic_! Malcolm's gonna kill him!"

To Morgan's surprise the fashion show passed quickly and enjoyably. He'd had no idea that so many fashionable clothing items could be knitted, and the range of colors was mind blowing. He'd also enjoyed watching Maggie's peers congratulate her on her stunning coup of the magazine's main spread even if there was a slight undercurrent of malice in their congratulations. It wasn't aimed at her, but at the dapper man who sat just one table over glowering at all and sundry, as if he were taking mental inventory of who came by to talk to her. Malcolm Edwards was _not_ amused. This was _his_ playground and he was the king of it. He'd fix that bitch...in fact, he'd already set those wheels in motion...

"So, ladies, we ready for bed?" Morgan asked as they made their way out of the ballroom some time later.

"Why Derek Morgan, I thought you'd never ask!" Maggie exclaimed. "But what are we gonna do with Pen?" she added in a stage whisper, making them all laugh. "You guys go on up. I'm too excited to sleep. Maybe a walk..."

Derek shook his head. "Not alone in the dark, pretty lady," he told her.

"I'll be fine. There's security all over the place."

"Un huh. I'm sure there is, but I'm coming with you all the same. To tell the truth with all the sitting I've done today I _need_ to move around a little bit. What about you, Momma?" He asked Penelope.

"Ooh, a walk in the moonlight with my two best friends... I'm game!"

"No moonlight stroll tonight, smartie pants, look!" And as they stepped outside and away from the doors and the brightly lit hotel entrance, the night took on a sinister aspect. Bushes loomed and trees, just shedding their leaves, creaked and moaned as gusts of wind rattled their branches in the darkness.

"Which way?" he asked.

"Well... the tents are set up over there," Maggie said tentatively. "What if we just do a quick lap?"

"Ooh, preview time!" Pen said laughing.

Maggie shook her head.

"The tents are made of heavy canvas and have locking flaps, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see everything just like everyone else!"

"I can not _wait!_" Penelope enthused walking arm in arm between Derek and Maggie. "I'm going home with yarn up to my eyeballs! I won't have to buy more until … well, at least until next month!"

"So which one of you learned to knit first?" Morgan asked knowing that they had been friends since grade school.

"That would have been Pen. She made all these funky psychedelic colored scarfs for everyone when we were nine! I was sooo jealous. I begged her mom to teach me. So... all this is Pen's fault!" Maggie said waving her arms towards the tents in front of them.

"So, what, you majored in...?"

"Chemistry!" Maggie laughed. "I was going to be a pharmacist just like my Dad. Then one day I saw this ad for a knitting contest and on a whim I entered it and won first place – and suddenly a design of mine was in a magazine and was _selling! _It was amazing. It was this awful little hat, a beret. But people loved it and then the magazine asked if I had any other patterns, and suddenly I was designing knitting patterns instead of studying for Chem tests and... one thing led to another and viola, here I am!" She laughed. "I keep thinking one day I'm gonna wake up and I'll be late for class!"

They walked along in silence for a few minutes between the rows of dark brooding tents. The wind sending broken leaves skritching across the gravel pathway in front of them.

"Eww, creepy." Pen said quietly and Morgan huffed out a little laugh.

"That's why you've got me babe," he said wrapping an arm around her plump waist.

Besides them Maggie stopped abruptly.

"What?" Morgan asked, his senses going on high alert.

"That wasn't there when I left earlier," she told him.

"What wasn't where?"

"That's my booth, right there," she pointed to a tent down a little bit further but directly in front of them. "Abbey's booth is right next to mine." Even in the dark Morgan could just make out the sign that said "Abbey's Castle".

"And?"

"And there's a walkway between them so we can drive up behind and move things easily in and out. There shouldn't be anything blocking it."

And there was now.

"Stay here," Morgan ordered as he crept slowly forward.

"FBI," he said loudly. "Come out with your hands up." The shape didn't move.

If this is a dog, I'm gonna feel really stupid, he thought moving up a little closer.

"You, there. I'm not gonna tell you again, come out with your hands up!"

When the object didn't move he sprang forward. A few seconds later he said, "Pen, I want you and Maggie to stay right there. Do _not_ move, do you hear me?" But if she did or didn't he wasn't waiting for her to answer him His cell phone was already in his hand and he was saying, "this is Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I'm here at the Heartland Inn and Convention Center, a man's been murdered..."

"You recognize him?" Detective Brad Thompson asked a while later as they stood over the corpse in a now brightly lit crime scene.

Morgan held Maggie's hand as she stared down at what appeared to be a young man, curled up on his side, asleep.

She sniffed and nodded. "It's...it's Padraic Wilson."

"Huh," said Thompson. "And, uh, what's your relationship to the deceased?"

She shook her head. "He used to work for me," she said softly, tears clogging her throat.

"Huh," the detective said again, a speculative look crossing his face. "Used to?" he prodded.

"I, uh, he left to go work with another designer, Malcolm Edwards about four months ago. I was sorry to see him go. He has, had such promise."

"And this parting of the ways, was it amicable?"

Maggie bit her lip. "It wasn't unexpected."

"I think that's enough, Detective." Morgan said softly. "Pen, why don't you take Maggie up to the suite. I'll be along in a little bit."

The Detective stood watching them go.

"Friend of yours is she?"

"What are you getting at Detective?" he asked brushing aside the question.

"You want to know what I'm "getting at" do you? Well how does this grab you? She's obviously hiding something. Yeah, I thought you caught that, and I gather she's a pretty smart lady. Yup, I know all about her fancy photo shoot that's happening here tomorrow. So what I think happened was, she kills this kid here for whatever reason, then comes back later in the company of two FBI agents and 'finds' him. How's that for an airtight alibi!"

"Got something here," the ME said as he shifted the body. The detective and Morgan moved closer.

"What the heck is this thing?" he asked glancing down at it before handing it over.

On a sheet of paper someone had written down a jumble of letters.

"No freakin' idea."

"Detective, can I look at that a minute?" Morgan stared at the sheet. He'd seen things like this before.

"It's a cryptogram."

"Huh," the detective said. "Billy, take this down to the station and have someone call someone and find someone who can figure out what this means." The young officer, Billy, hurried forward.

"Sure thing. I can probably download a program -"

"I can do one better," Morgan interrupted speed dialing his phone.

"Hey, Reid, I need you to decipher something. I'm sending it to you now," he added taking a picture of the evidence.

"What's that about?" the detective demanded.

"One of my colleagues is good at these kind of things."

The detective sneered. "I'm sure your friend is good, but -"

Morgan's phone rang.

"What have you got, kid?" he queried.

"I'm assuming we're dealing with a dead body?"

"Yeah."

"Then what we have is a motive."

* * *

><p>The note Morgan sent to Reid said:<p>

**F HKLT TEXQ EB AFA**

Nobody panic!

A cryptogram is a message written in code. The easiest way to write a cryptogram is to substitute each letter of the alphabet with another thus making it fairly easy to solve.

For example, let's say the cryptogram was in the form of a letter. Most letters begin with the word, "Dear." If you were trying to solve the code used in the letter you would start by writing the word "Dear" over the coded letters in the first word. This would give you four letters in the coded alphabet and as long as they were not scrambled you could then go on substituting the rest of the code with the real alphabet and thereby solve the clue.

Our message is not, unfortunately a letter. On the other hand, not many words in our alphabet begin with a single letter.

If you don't want to solve the clue, that's o.k.! All is revealed in Chapter 2.

* * *

><p>Love reviews! and feel free to pm me!<p>

* * *

><p>"The Knitting Game"©2011<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 2

What A Tangled Web We Weave when first we practice to deceive.

"Talk to me, kid, what does the message say." Morgan queried changing his cell phone over to speaker so the detective could hear.

"If it helps any it says, 'I know what he did.'" Reid answered.

"I don't suppose it says_ what_ he did, does it?" Morgan asked hopefully.

"No. But, the "t" of 'what' is circled, so I'm assuming it's part of another message somewhere."

"Thanks genius." Morgan said hanging up.

"Terrific," the detective grumbled. Then he added, "can you tell how he died yet?" this to the ME as he stood up.

"Judging by the petechial hemorrhaging of the eyes, and bruising 'round the neck I think it's fair to say he was strangled."

"Huh." The detective said again.

Morgan stepped forward carefully avoiding the body in the narrow space between the tents. "Well one thing's for certain, he wasn't killed here."

"What makes you say that?" Thompson queried.

"There's no evidence of a struggle." Morgan answered. "The guy's been strangled, right? So he had to have put up a fight. But the grass isn't disturbed in any way. It should be all scuffed up if he was killed here."

Glaring at the small undisturbed space the detective nodded. Great now he was going to have to go find a crime scene.

"Which," Morgan continued, "pretty much leaves Maggie in the clear. She isn't large enough or strong enough to have either strangled a guy this size or to have carried him here." He motioned to the small space around him.

"Yeah? Well I'm not counting her out just yet. There was something hinky about her answers. She knows more than she's telling. Friend of yours or not."

"Maybe, maybe not. ...we got a time of death yet?" Morgan asked turning towards the ME.

"About an hour ago, I'd say, no longer than that."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Huh," Detective Thompson said. "Wonder where the McDowell woman was then."

"Sitting at a table in Ballroom C," Morgan said jerking his head towards the hotel and conference center.

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"Because I was sitting there with her. And you've got about 800 other people who can attest to that if you don't believe me."

By the time Morgan managed to pry himself loose from Detective Thompson he had a raging headache and all he wanted to do was snag a beer from the bar, go up to his room, kick his shoes off and maybe catch the last hour of a game. Any game. He didn't even care at this point. Just as long as there weren't any dead bodies in it, any game in any sport would do.

He was half way across the lobby, intent on getting a cold one, before he realized that that wasn't gonna be happening any time soon. Sitting almost directly in front of him was Penelope. Beside her, in a matching over stuffed arm chair, was Maggie and arranged around _them_ were the rest of knitting's indie movers and shakers ... with the notable exception of Malcolm Edwards, who was conspicuously missing.

"Derek!" Pen called out catching sight of him, "over here!"

He shot one last longing glance towards the bar before heading over to where she was sitting.

"I thought you were going up to the suite?" he said, nodding hello to the others in the group, all of whom he'd met earlier in the evening.

"We were, going up to the suite, I mean," Pen said talking too quickly, "but then Liz and Aiden heard about Padraic, and they called Abbey and Gerte and when they saw us coming in from, well, out there," she waved towards the entrance, "they stopped us... and... and we thought we'd wait for you here to see if you'd heard anything we didn't know already."

"So, was it really Padraic?" Liz Nolan, a thin frosted blonde ice maiden if there ever was one asked breathlessly, leaning towards him. She was a little older than most of them, a second rate designer who'd been clinging on desperately to the wrong side of success for too long.

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"But who would kill _Padraic_?!" Aiden Kavanaugh, a well liked designer who'd never quite made it to the top, demanded distraughtly. He had also been, at one time or another, the dead man's lover.

"You, for one Aiden!" Gerte Meier shot back at him, her words slurring slightly as she waved a wine glass in his general direction. The perpetually disgruntled blonde was a consistent runner up to Abbey Kincaid when it came to dying hand painted yarns and though she supplied Malcolm Edwards with a specialty line it was no secret that she really wanted to dye for Maggie a position currently filled by Abbey.

The young man stared open mouthed at her in disbelief.

"I _loved _him!" he exclaimed finally.

"And you_ lost_ him to _Malcolm_," the inebriated blonde pointed out callously.

"Gerte!" the mousey haired brunette sitting next to her gasped out, mortified at the woman's cruelty.

"Oh like you don't have a motive yourself, Abbey!" Gerte said waving her wine glass at her. "After all, _you_ lost Malcolm _to _Padraic! Though what the fuss is about that man I can not understand!"

Abbey Kincaid's face went white. The queen of hand painted yarn had been engaged to Malcolm Edwards when he had suddenly, unceremoniously and humiliatingly dumped her four months previously for Padraic. Tears filled her eyes at the unkind reminder.

"Abs, she didn't mean that," Maggie said quietly, leaning over to pat the younger woman's hand. "We know you would never have hurt Padraic."

"Malcom maybe, but never Padraic," Liz agreed, dark eyes glittering, enjoying the younger woman's obvious distress. "And speaking of Malcom..." Liz added coldly as the man himself descended on them, stalking across the lobby in outrage at having been left out of their little gathering. The newly deposed king of knitting was almost purple in the face he was so angry.

"_How,_" he demanded on reaching them, "can Padraic be dead?! And_ why_ did no one tell me?!"

"Well the _why_ part is easy," Gerte said grinning. "No one likes you. As for the how... why don't _you_ tell _us,_ or didn't you kill him?"

Malcolm Edwards opened his mouth. Closed it, then opened it again before bellowing, "what the hell do you mean?! Why would _I_ kill him, he _worked _for me!"

"Did he? A little birdy told me he was leaving." Silence met Gerte's announcement.

"The _hell_ he was!" Malcolm exclaimed.

"He was?!" this from Aiden.

"Oh!" from Abbey, as if she suddenly understood something.

"What?!" Malcolm asked, pouncing on that one slipped word, eyes narrowing as he stared at her.

Abbey looked down at the handkerchief she was twisting in her lap. "Nothing," she mumbled unable to meet his gaze.

"Really?" Gerte said. "It sounded like something to me. Spill it."

Abbey bit her lip. Then anxiously glanced up at Maggie before looking away again.

"He... he came to me, this morning...asking if... if I would dye him some specialty yarn."

Gerte's face went unnaturally pale. "He _what?!_" she exclaimed. "But ...oh!"

And then all eyes went to Malcolm as he snapped, "Says you!" at Abbey.

"He did!" she exclaimed, indignation flushing her cheeks.

"Well, that certainly spreads around possible motives." Liz pointed out smiling unpleasantly. "It sounds like Padraic was on the move," she went on enjoying herself thoroughly.

"First, there's you, Malcolm," she said grinning at him openly. "There's always been something... wrong... about the way Padraic went to work for you." Her eyes flicked momentarily towards Maggie before she went on. "And you must have been furious tonight when that beautiful coat was introduced as having been designed _by_ him _for_ you, eh? Makes one wonder how many of your other current designs weren't Malcolm Edwards originals!" Again her eyes flicked to Maggie before coming back to him again. "So what happened, Malcolm? Did he tell you he was leaving after his heady success tonight? Hum? Maybe going out on his own was he, so you killed him?!"

"He wasn't going anyplace!" Malcolm snapped back furiously!

"Really? Then why would he creep behind your back to _Abbey_ and ask her about dying up yarn for him when everyone knows you use Gerte exclusively... which leads us to our next possible murderer!"

"How dare you -"

And Liz laughed in the face of Gerte's indignation.

"Come, come, Gerte. Everyone here knows you're not in the same class as Abbey when it comes to manipulating color. You don't even come close to her talent and the only reason Malcolm uses you is because he was foolish enough to lose Abbey when he dumped her for Padraic. Which is odd in itself. Just how exactly _did_ you steal him from Maggie?" and you would have had to have been deaf not to have heard the emphasis on the word 'steal'.

"Which leads us to another possibility," Liz smirked at Maggie. "Maybe Padraic didn't design that beautiful coat after all...huh, Maggie?"

"_What_!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Well, did he or didn't he?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" This from Malcolm.

"Oh, I do seem to have touched a raw nerve..." Liz said grinning slyly.

"What are you saying? That Padraic stole the design from Maggie?!" Aiden demanded indignantly.

"Because that's ridiculous. Padraic would never have stolen a design from her!"

"Is that what he told you?" Liz purred. "Or is that what he wouldn't do for you?"

"That's quite enough!" Malcolm bellowed.

"It's not like you're in the clear yourself," Gerte snarled, glaring at Liz. "You've been in love with Malcolm for years and all he's ever done is ignored you!"

"That sounds like more of a motive for killing Malcolm," Abbey pointed out timidly, "than Padraic." And Morgan huffed a quiet snort of agreement which brought Malcolm's attention to him.

"Wait! Who are _you_?!" he demanded as if he'd only just noticed Derek.

"A friend," Maggie said tiredly. "Derek Morgan, he was with us when we found... Padraic,"

"A _friend,_ how convenient..." Malcolm sneered.

"Oh shut up, Malcolm," Liz snapped waspishly.

"So what are you, a cop or something?" Aiden asked studying him.  
>"Why would he be a cop?" Malcolm demanded.<p>

"Because, Malcolm darling," Gerte said dramatically, "he was outside at the crime scene until just a few minutes ago...so, he's either a cop or a suspect!"

"So which one was it?" Malcolm said sharply.

"I'm a Federal Agent," Morgan answered eyeing Malcolm.

"How even more convenient," Liz purred.

"What interest could the Feds possibly have in Padraics murder?!" exclaimed Aiden.

"None," Morgan answered. "I'm only here because I came to the festival with Penelope."

"So, what, you're just butting in because she's a friend of Maggies?!" Malcolm all but bellowed.

"Friend or not, Maggie isn't a suspect." Morgan said quietly.

"Oh, and how did you figure _that_ out so quickly?!" Gerte queried, sloshing more wine from her glass as she leaned towards him.

"It wasn't hard, just a matter of reviewing the facts. Considering that the victim was strangled and that he was 5' 10" and that Maggie is, what, 5' 3", he would have obligingly had to have sat down for her to kill him, which seems unlikely. Then there's the time of death... Maggie was in the ballroom, and we have about 800 witnesses to corroborated that."

"Bravo," Liz clapped insincerely. "You do realize," she went on lowering her voice conspiratorially, "that that leaves the five of us then as the most likely suspects! So, let's review the facts," she went on briskly, mimicking Morgan. "Considering the fact that Agent Morgan just said that Maggie was in plain sight in the ballroom when the murder was being committed, it must have been either during or after the fashion show that Padraic was killed. Now... it couldn't have been _during _the show, because I for one, saw him."

Heads nodded in agreement.

"So," she went on grinning unpleasantly, "it had to have been afterwards when we were all just sitting around talking, so where were we? I was sitting with Aiden," Aiden nodded in agreement. "And Abbey was sitting with Gerte … so that just leaves you Malcolm. Where were you when Padraic was being murdered? After all he was sitting with you during the show, wasn't he?" and her voice dripped with malice as she eyed the furious man.

"What motive could I possibly have had to kill him?" Malcolm demanded.

"Well let me think..." but Liz was cut off by Aiden asking "I don't suppose you have any clues, do you?You know, to tell you who... who killed him?"

And six pairs of eyes looked at Morgan expectantly.

"Yes, actually we do. There was a note left...beside him."

"A note?!" Aiden repeated. And Morgan caught a hint of...something...

"What kind of a note?" Aiden almost whispered.

Morgan shook his head.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you."

"Oh."

"Aiden, sweetie," Penelope said suddenly, "if you know something, now would be a really good time to tell it."

The young man bit his lip, his eyes tearing. "I don't...I don't know if this has anything to do with... with what happened, but... I found this under my door tonight when I went up to my room. I started to throw it away but... but when I heard about... about Padraic I thought it might, I don't know, be a clue, so I kept it. I don't know what it says, I can't read it, I don't even know what it is..."

And reaching into his pocket he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. When Morgan opened it up he saw the letters:

**F HKLT TEXQ EB TLR IAK'Q AL**

"What the hell_ is _that thing!" Malcolm exclaimed.

"A cryptogram," Morgan answered quietly.

"I got one of those, too..." Liz said suddenly. "I thought it was just a prank. Some rubbish a kid wrote on a piece of paper and put under my door."

"Where is it?" Morgan demanded.

"In my room... I'll go get it."

Several tense minutes later she reappeared and handed several strips of torn up note paper to Morgan. He took them without comment and quickly fitted them back together. The letters on _her _note read:

**F HKLT TEXQ VLR TXKQBA QL AL**

"What do they say?" Malcolm demanded impatiently.

"I don't know." Morgan answered bluntly. "But I'll find out directly. In the meantime I think it would be best if everyone went up to their rooms. After all, you have a show that starts tomorrow morning."

"You mean they won't cancel it?!" Aiden said indignantly. "But... but Padraics dead! And... and there's a murderer running around here someplace!"

Malcolm stared at Morgan, eyes narrowed. "You think this is personal, don't you!"

"More than likely, yes."

"And that it was one of us..."

Liz unconsciously slipped a hand up to her throat. "Are we safe?"

"I really don't know," Morgan answered honestly. "I think that might depend on why the victim was murdered... and on what you all know about it."

"Reid," Morgan said into his phone a short time later from the privacy of his bedroom having ditched Maggie and Penelope in the suite's living room, "I've got two more notes I'm sending you."

"Just as long as you don't also have two more bodies to go with the notes," Reid joked uncharacteristically. Morgan looked at his phone, then grinned and shook his head. "No, and I'd just as soon keep it that way, too, thank you."

"K," Reid said briskly. "The first note says -"

The Knitting Game©2011Threebagsfulled 7


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 3

Who's on third?

"... The first note says, 'I know what he wouldn't do' and I'm assuming the 'he' refers to the victim. The second note says 'I know whatyou wanted to do' which is … interesting."

Great, Morgan thought, why couldn't the notes just say what they meant?!

"I could use a little help here, Reid," he said shaking his head.

"Actually, what you could really use is another consonant and maybe two more vowels..."

For the second time that night Morgan found himself staring at his phone wondering what had gotten into Reid.

"You've lost me, man," he said finally.

"Well, the 'T' was circled in your earlier note and these notes have an 'E' and an 'I' circled so obviously you need to buy another consonant and some more vowels in order to spell anything."

Morgan shook his head grinning despite himself. "You do not watch 'Wheel of Fortune', man!" he exclaimed.

"No," Reid agreed. "But I do know how the game is played."

"Great so I have an "E", and an "I" and a "T" and I don't know what the category is..."

"No, but you do have three clues... and probably a few suspects."

Morgan snorted.

"A whole room full."

"Well that gives you a place to start. Call me if you need me."

Morgan nodded. He would. But right now he needed to talk to Penelope and Maggie.

"Oh, Der – great you're off the phone!" Penelope exclaimed jumping up off the couch when he entered the suite's living room. "Maggie and I've been talking and I think she'd be safer in here with us, and there are two beds in my room and -"

"That sounds like a good idea," Morgan agreed cutting her off. "Why don't you go help Maggie grab her stuff, but then we gotta talk, ladies."

When his phone rang seconds later Derek was surprised to see Penelope's number.

"Missed me already?" he teased.

"You need to come to room 502... there was a note under Maggie's door when we got here..."

Morgan looked at the jumbled letters on the page...

**F HKLT TEXQ EB QLL H C OLJVLR**

"I think we need to find out if any of the others got notes since we last saw them," he told the girls.

"Abbey's room is right next door and Gerte is just one beyond hers," Maggie told him. And in Morgan's head something clicked. "Maggie, do you know which rooms Aiden, Malcolm or Liz are in? Or where Padraic's was for that matter?" He asked her.

Maggie shook her head. "I only know where Abbey's is because we checked in together and when we came back from dinner last night, Gerte was just going into hers. I don't even know what floors the others are on," she told him.

"Ooh, tell me we have another body!" a drunken voice exclaimed from right behind them.

"No!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Oh," Gerte said sadly, "and here I was so hoping someone had gotten rid of Malcolm already... honestly, whoever killed Padraic got the wrong person," she added.

"Gerte, did you find one of these under your door?" Morgan asked holding up the latest note in front of the inebriated woman.

Gerte shrugged. "I'll go see, I was just having a night cap, so I haven't been up to my room yet this evening."

"Oh no," a soft voice exclaimed, "has something else happened?" Abbey asked coming out of her room. "I heard your voices, out here..." she trailed off in explanation.

"Maggie got a note," Morgan explained, "so I wanted to check on you and Gerte -"

"No! No note," Gerte exclaimed. "Is that good or bad, Mr. FBI agent?" she asked swaying towards him.

"I didn't get one either," Abbey added.

Morgan shook his head, "I have no idea," he told them. "But I do have one more question. Do either of you know what rooms Aiden, Liz, or Malcolm are in?"

Gerte shook her head. "Just Maggie and Abbey because I saw them last night after dinner."

Abbey didn't answer him.

"Well, I'm off to bed!" Gerte announced. "Alone," she said batting her eyelashes at Morgan.

"Sleep well," he told her and opening her door she disappeared inside with a dramatic sigh.

"Abbey?" Penelope asked softly. "Do you know what rooms the others are in?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Last night I took Aiden some yarn he asked me to bring to the show for him, I brought some for Liz, too. I didn't want to accidentally sell it, so after dinner last night I took it to their rooms."

"And you saw something...?"

She nodded. "When I came out of Aiden's room, Malcolm and Padraic were just coming out of the elevator and they were arguing furiously. When they saw me with Aiden they separated and went to their rooms."

"You didn't happen to hear what they were arguing about, did you?"

Abbey shook her head. "No, but Malcolm was really angry and Padraic was … not backing down."

"Which was unusual, I take it?" Morgan asked.

Abbey nodded. "Padraic wasn't the arguing type, it would have been more like him to just give in."

"So whatever they were arguing about was important," Morgan said. He ran a hand across his head then shook it. Then glancing down at Maggie's note he said, "let me just send this to Reid and then I think we should all get some sleep."

"What about Malcolm? Shouldn't we find out if he got a note, too?" Maggie asked worriedly.

Morgan sighed then nodded. "Abbey, what room is he in, I'll go down now and ask him."

"Room 302," she said softly and for just a second it seemed to Morgan that she'd been about to add something before she simply bit her lip instead.

"You o.k. Abs?" Maggie asked noticing it, too.

"I'm just a little bit scared," she said softly.

"Look, why don't you grab your night things and come stay in our room?" Morgan offered. "Pen can bunk in with me, and you and Maggie can have the other room."

Maggie raised her eyebrows as if to say, _really?!_

"What," Morgan said innocently, "we've bunked in before and what Kevin doesn't know can't hurt him."

Penelope punched his arm. "Ow! Woman, take it easy! O.k. So we'll tell Kevin – tomorrow," he amended.

"You are soooo bad," she laughed. "Come on Abbey, get your things, Derek and I really have bunked in before and he was a perfect gentleman."

"If you're sure..."

"We're sure, come on, I'll help you get your things," Maggie added, and as Abbey went back in to her room, Maggie mouthed a silent 'thank you' to Morgan.

"Go," Penelope told him. "Check up on Malcolm because it's nightie night time for me."

"Just don't hog the bed, woman," Morgan growled playfully.

"I'll leave you either side, your choice," she said smiling, "I promise to just take the middle!"

And with a laugh Derek walked away. Then his thoughts grew more somber. He didn't know if it would make things harder or easier if Malcolm _did_ have a note, but he was about to find out, one way or the other.

"Yes, I got one, and I threw it away." Malcolm said dismissively, "it was utter nonsense. Just gibberish, like the others."

"Mr. Edwards, I'm going to need that note."

"Oh very well then," Edwards snorted, "you'd better come in. I've been working and I don't know which bit of paper it is." He pointed towards the trash can which was piled high with crumpled notes, some of which had fallen onto the floor around it. "Help yourself, I'm busy," he added waspishly, sitting down at the desk again where he was working on something.

With a silent sigh Morgan picked up the trash can and dumped all the papers out. It was a matter of only a few minutes to find the one he was looking for. The letters in their bold caps stared up off the page at him:

**F HKLT TEXQ VLR JXAB E FJ AL**

"Nonsense, utter nonsense," Edwards said dismissively. "Now if you don't mind -"

"I just have one more question," Morgan said pausing in the doorway. "Do you know which rooms Liz, Aiden, Abbey, Gerte or Maggie are in?"

"Why on earth would I?" He said sharply. "Now if you don't mind, it's late." And with that he shut the door.

I wonder why he lied about that? Morgan mused as he made his way back to the suite. At the very least he knew which room Aiden was in...

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 4


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 4

Round and round and round we go, where _we_ end nobody knows.

"Hey, Reid, got a couple more for you." Morgan told him early the next morning.

"Ready." Reid said yawning into the phone.

Morgan laughed. Clearly the young genius hadn't had enough coffee yet this morning.

"K, just sent them to you -"

"And I just sent them back."

_Already?!_ Morgan shook his head, wondering again, for about the billionth time, what it must be like to be Reid.

"O.k. … 'I know what he took from you' … that doesn't sound good," Morgan said staring at the first message, the one Maggie had received.

"No," Reid agreed.

"and... 'I know what you made him do.'" Malcolm's message... well, _that_ was certainly interesting.

"Ready for the piece de resistance?" Reid asked yawning again.

"As long as it tells me who 'dun' it!" Morgan said sighing.

"Not who, but why... the circled letters spell 'THIEF' which sounds like a motive to me."

But a motive for whom?

"Thanks Kid."

"Ummmm," Reid answered, sounding like he was half way asleep again. Well, Morgan thought guiltily closing his phone, it _was_ Saturday, and he _had_ called Reid at home and it _was_ only 6:30 a.m. But he had a murder to help solve, if only to exonerate Maggie... _I know what he took from you..._ damn! That did _not _sound good... Maybe what he needed to do was review what he _did _know then fill in the blanks from there.

A half hour later Morgan stood in front of the notes he'd taped to his room's full length mirror. They read:

**Padraic**- _victim_ – designer. Note #1 – I know what he did

**Aiden** – designer. Note #2 – I know what you wanted to do

**Liz** – designer. Note #3 - I know what he wouldn't do

**Maggie** – designer. Note #4 – I know what he took from you

**Malcolm** – designer. Note #5 – I know what you made him do

**Gerte –** dyer. No Note ….

**Abbey** – dyer. No Note ….

Well, that was interesting. Taping another piece of paper beside the others, Morgan wrote:

**THIEF**

Which made things even more interesting.

Did 'THIEF' refer to Padraic or did it refer to someone else?

He took a sip from the cup of lousy room coffee that he'd made and grimaced at the taste before setting it down on the dresser. He looked at the first note again.

'I know what he did' ... if the 'he' was supposed to mean Padraic then why didn't the note just say so, and why send notes to most of the others … _most_ of the others. Huh. Now why hadn't Gerte or Abbey gotten notes?

O.k. they weren't designers, so... whatever was going on involved only the designers? He nodded, that made sense. If someone had stolen something it wouldn't have been a dyer... so who had stolen what?

He looked at the last two notes again. 'I know what he took from you'.

Alright, that was pretty clear. Someone had stolen something from Maggie.

'I know what you made him do'..., well if the 'do' was steal something, then the 'him' most likely had been Padraic, because the only other 'him' in this little group was Aiden... who apparently had _wanted_ to do something but hadn't.

Then again, what if the 'he' in 'I know what he did' wasn't Padraic at all... what if it referred to _Malcolm? _Did that mean that Padraic knew that Malcolm had stolen something and when he'd gotten the note he'd confronted him and gotten himself killed because of it? Or... had he shown it to someone _else_ and been killed because the 'he' in the note was someone else entirely?

Morgan shook his head... what the hell could have been stolen that was worth killing someone over? These people designed _knitting _for god sakes! He sighed and looked at the remaining note. 'I know what he wouldn't do' ...who? Malcolm, Padraic, Aiden? … ah geez.

Huffing out a puff of air Morgan rubbed a hand across his eyes. Quite simply put he didn't have a clue who was doing what to whom. It was time to talk to Maggie, and this time he wasn't gonna get distracted.

Mindful of the still early hour Morgan quietly opened the door into the adjoining sitting room expecting to find darkness and peace and quiet. Instead he was confronted with bright lights, the warm smell of better coffee than he had managed to achieve, a table laden with breakfast goodies and two very excited, very much awake, fully dressed ladies.

"Well look who got up early!" he exclaimed.

Penelope flicked her finger tips at him, "look who got up late!" she countered, grinning.

"Did not!" he shot back snagging a piece of toast off her plate.

"Hey, put that back!"

"I'm hungry!"

"I should so -"

"Behave!" he told her, "just be nice, o.k.?" And she laughed.

"For you, I can do that," she agreed.

Winking at Maggie Derek dropped a kiss on the top of Penelope's head before pulling out a seat and joining them.

"So what's the schedule for today?"

"Shop 'till I drop!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Not you!" Morgan laughed, tapping the tip of Penelope's nose, "I meant Maggie."

"Oh!"

For a minute it was quiet before Maggie said, "I don't really know. I mean, will anything change because of what happened to Padraic?"

Morgan shook his head.

"Unless something happened during the night I don't know about, the crime scene should have been released by now so as far as the show itself is concerned, it'll be business as usual."

Maggie sat, eyes downcast, shredding the napkin in her lap.

"Poor Paddy," she said finally.

"Maggie," Morgan said quietly, "our friend Reid translated the note you got last night. It said, 'I know what he took from you', do you know what that means?"

"Padraic never took anything from me!" she exclaimed forcefully.

O_kaaay_, Morgan thought.

"Do you know anyone who might have thought he did?"

Maggie shook her head. "He was a talented designer in his own right, he didn't need to steal anything!"

Hmmmm...

"If I read you the other notes, would you tell me if they mean anything to you?" he asked her gently.

She nodded, "that a girl," he said encouragingly.

"Okay. The first note, the one that was left with Padraic, said, 'I know what he did.' …."

Maggie scrunched up her face, thinking.

"What?"

"Well, was it left with him _after_ he was – killed, or was it sent _to_ him?" she asked thoughtfully. "Because that changes the meaning of the word 'he'."

Smart woman.

"Does it mean anything to you either way?"

"If it was sent _to_ him, then Paddy isn't the intended 'he' ..." she shook her head. "Could we try another one?" she asked, "because right now, the 'he' could be anybody."

Morgan nodded.

"Okay. Aiden got the next one. It says, 'I know what you wanted to do'."

Maggie shook her head. "Not a clue. But... it probably had something to do with Padraic or Malcolm... I think he wanted to form a design team with Paddy but Malcolm beat him to it."

"And you didn't want to?" Morgan asked curiously.

Maggie smiled. "We talked about it, but... we had different ideas of what we wanted to do, where we wanted to be."

"Which is why you weren't surprised when he left you."

She nodded sadly. "Such a waste, he had so much talent..."

Penelope patted her hand.

"Liz, got the next one," Morgan plowed on before the two woman got all watery on him. "Her's said, 'I know what he wouldn't do' ..."

"Really!?"

"That means something to you?"

Maggie thought about it a minute before nodding. "I'm almost sure the 'he' in her note is

Malcolm." She paused a minute, "I feel like I'm telling tales out of school, but Liz has a serious thing about Malcolm."

"A thing?" Penelope asked brightening at the thought of gossip.

Maggie waved her hands. "I don't really know what happened, but... I think he might have...deflowered her, back in college. One of those lecherous, drunken, one night stands."

"Unrequited love."

"Something like that. Gerte probably knows more."

"Gerte?" Morgan asked.

"The three of them went to school together. I don't know if they were in the same year, but... I think she was the one who told me...or maybe it was Abbey?"

"Abbey?!" Morgan said incredulously.

Maggie chuckled, "I know. Little mousey Abbey, but people _tell_ her things, like you tell your hairdresser. One minute you're just chatting about nothing and the next you're pouring your heart out to her."

Huh. Interesting. Something swirled in the back of his memory...

"So what wouldn't he do?"

"I expect it was marry her."

Oh...

"But that would have been years ago!" Morgan exclaimed.

"I think... I think when Malcolm dumped Abbey that Liz thought maybe she had a chance with him again."

"Uh, I thought he dumped Abbey for Padraic?"

Maggie laughed.

"Trust me, Malcolm is _not_ gay. I think he just put that about to humiliate her. He's... mean that way."

"And Padraic never denied it?"

"I doubt he even heard about it. And even if he had, Padraic was another little mouse."

Huh.

"So, I got the next note..." Maggie said changing the subject, "and then, what, Malcolm got one too?"

"Yeah he did. It said, 'I know what you made him do'." And Maggie said, "Oh!"

"Oh?" Morgan repeated.

"I... oh no." And tears filled her eyes. "oh... how could I have been so blind! I thought... I thought when Paddy left to go work for Malcolm that it made a certain amount of sense. His style meshed with Malcolm's better than it did with mine...but that's not what happened!Malcolm _blackmailed_ him into leaving."

"What makes you think that?"

Maggie wrung her hands together.

"Maggie?"

"It wasn't Padraic who stole my designs, it was Malcolm. I don't know _how_ it happened, or even _where_ it could have happened but he saw the rough drawings for my new designs -"

"And he stole them." Morgan finished for her.

"Yes. No. Oh!" she clenched her fists. "He took the ideas... the... the stitch patterns and used them. Overnight almost, he whipped up all these patterns using the exact same combinations of stitch patterns I'd been playing with. Do you know how unlikely it is that he would have come up with the same combinations _exactly _for six different pieces_?_" She shook her head. "Suddenly, there I was with _nothing... _and Padraic had already left. " She sniffed. "I called Mags, I was so _angry, _all that work for nothing... and the deadline for submitting pieces for the magazine spread was coming up and suddenly we only had a few weeks left to design all new things for it and get them in. We worked like demons, around the clock practically. I wanted to rub Malcolm's rotten little nose in it. I wanted to win that magazine spread so badly. I wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong, just show up with even better patterns than the ones he's taken from me. I even got Abbey to dye more new yarns for us... and it worked. We won."

"Which is when you thought he was going to kill you."

She nodded. "He was so angry. I really thought he was going to have a heart attack."

"Let's back up a minute here. When did Padraic leave?"

"Roughly four months ago."

"Okay. And when did you realize that Malcolm had stolen your patterns?"

"About two weeks later. We were at another show and he just 'happened' to have his submissions for the magazine with him..."

"And made sure you saw them."

She nodded.

"And Padraic?"

"He wouldn't look at me the whole weekend. He was so miserable...then the last day he did come to see me. He said he was so sorry about what had happened and that he'd known Malcolm had stolen the patterns but that he'd been afraid to tell me... don't you see? Somehow Padraic must have found out what Malcolm had done and that horrible man must have threatened to tell me that _Padraic_ had been the one who had stolen them..."

"And Padraic believed him."

"You don't know Malcolm. He would have ruined Padraic in the eyes of the industry."

"So why didn't you say something, confront Malcolm, or -"

"There wasn't anything I _could_ do, there wasn't any way to prove Malcolm had taken them. He had actual samples and all I had were some drawings and swatches. Some people would have believed me but... the best thing I could do was simply come up with something bigger and better." She shook her head. "Poor Padraic if he'd just come to me..." she trailed off sadly.

Morgan huffed out a breath.

"So who wrote the notes?" he asked at the same time as a timid knock sounded at the door.

"Oh my gosh!" Maggie exclaimed. "That must be Abbey! We're going to be late!"

"It's only 8 a.m.," Morgan told her as she leaped up and grabbed two overly large bags from where they waited by the door.

"Yes, but I'm not completely set up yet," Maggie answered over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Abbey, here, take these," she added shoving the bags at Abbey. Then turning she grabbed up two more overly stuffed bags, gasped out a "see you later," and disappeared out the door pushing Abbey before her, but not before a pair of very scared brown eyes met Morgan's and then flinched away.

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 6


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 5

"Wait!" Morgan exclaimed. "I thought Abbey spent the night here?"

"She did," Penelope agreed.

"But... if she was _here..._ then, how was she just out _there?_!"

Penelope laughed and patted his cheek. "She went back to her own room to shower and get dressed, silly... while someone was still sleeping," she added slyly.

"Hey!"

"Snoring loudly, I might add."

"I do _not_ snore!" he replied indignantly.

"Of course you don't," she agreed grinning into her coffee cup. "You just breathe loudly."

Morgan regarded her through narrowed eyes but whatever he was about to say got interrupted when she asked, "so who did leave the notes, Derek?"

ahhh... he shook his head, the memory of scared brown eyes looking at him still lingered in his head. He poured another cup of coffee, stalling, as he mulled over the question. He was pretty sure who _hadn't _written them, Padraic, Maggie or Malcolm, as for who had... he needed to talk to Abbey before he could be completely sure about that.

Across the table from him Penelope was nibbling on her lip.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"It's just, I think I know who wrote them."

Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"I think it was Abbey." She held up a hand to stop him before he said anything.

"It had to be someone who knew who was in which room, and we know Abbey knew that. And it had to be someone who knew things about everybody, secret things, the kinds of things people told her because she was quiet and unassuming and a good listener … and it also had to be someone who knew about Maggie's stolen designs and she had to have known because Maggie said she had Abbey dye _more _new yarns when they had to start over which implies that Abbey dyed the yarn for the stolen ones, too," Morgan nodded, "and," Penelope rushed on, "she wanted to expose Malcolm for the thief and fraud that he was and was just too...meek, to confront him head on."

Morgan sat back in his chair smiling. "Look who's become the profiler, now" he said fondly, grinning at her.

"Oh you!" Garcia said smacking his hand and blushing furiously.

"Come on, let me show you something," he said getting up and leading her into his room.

"Derek!" she exclaimed half joking, "that is the oldest line in the book!" And Derek laughed.

"I was not trying to get you into my bed, crazy lady... well not that way, at least!"

Garcia tossed her head as if wounded. "Well, then, what did you want to show me?" she pouted.

"Those," Morgan said pointing to his taped up notes. "Maybe 'fresh eyes' will tell me what I'm missing."

Penelope read the notes quickly, nodding as she did.

"Okay. But you don't have any 'facts' up there."

Morgan stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"I don't -"

"Hush." she commanded, and curious, he did.

"Fact 1 – Padraic was killed after the fashion show ended but probably while people were still in the ballroom milling around because we went for our walk not long after and he was already dead, and it couldn't have been _during_ the show because we talked to him after...," she paused for breath.

"Fact 2 – He was 5' 10" and was strangled, so that rules out either Maggie or Abbey as the killer. They're much too short.

"Fact 3 - Malcolm stole Maggie's designs and Padraic knew it... either before or after he went to work for him.

"Fact 4 – Padraic had decided to leave Malcolm's design team.

"And _those_ are the facts," she added, triumphantly. "Or at least the ones we need to look at to figure out who killed Padraic. Now if it was _Malcolm_ who was dead we'd have a whole lot more things to be reviewing and everyone would have a motive."

Morgan considered everything she'd said.

"Okay," he said finally. "So if we assume Abbey wrote the notes, why make them into cryptograms if you wanted everyone to know what they said?"

" at least one of them would be able to decipher them?" Penelope suggested.

Morgan nodded. "Okay, I'll go with that... and I think I know at least one person who fits the description. What else?"

"We need to figure out who was where after the fashion show."

Morgan nodded again. "I need to talk to Abbey." He glanced at his watch. "And if I hurry I can do it before the show starts."

She was waiting nervously, fussing around her booth, knowing he would come. It was almost a relief when he showed up.

"Are you going to arrest me?" she squeaked anxiously.

"For what?" he asked. "Sending people notes? That's hardly a crime, Abbey."

"But Padraic _died_ because of them," she said tearfully. "I never meant that to happen. I just wanted to expose Malcolm for what he was."

"Padraic died because someone killed him. Whether the notes had anything to do with that -" Morgan shrugged.

She shredded the tissue she was holding then threw the pieces away compulsively.

"Abbey... why write the notes in code?"

"I didn't want just anybody to be able to read them... they were personal."

"Will you tell me what they mean?"

She frowned.

"I thought you already knew-"

"I know what they _say_, now I want to know what you meant by them."

Her mouth formed a small 'oh' then she nodded.

"Let's start with … Maggie's," he suggested, one he already knew the answer to.

"Malcolm stole the designs Maggie was working on for the magazine. It made me so _angry_ and there wasn't any way to expose what he'd done..."

Something clicked inside his head. "So that's when you got the idea for the notes to begin with."

She nodded miserably. "I started thinking of all the cruel things he'd done to everyone and I just kept getting angrier and angrier and then, I was dying some yarn, and suddenly the idea for the notes popped into my head and I knew that if I wrote the notes cleverly enough, that I could spell the word "THIEF" out of clues hidden in them and then... it was so easy from there..."

"Why cryptograms? They're not that easy to decipher unless you know how to solve them to begin with."

She waved a hand. "Look at us," she said including all the tents around them. "We sit at these shows either snowed under with customers or fiddling our fingers with nothing to do... so a lot of us do word puzzles to keep from going crazy."

"So, everyone you sent a note to could decipher them?"

She shook her head, no. "Maggie can't, she's hopeless, and so is Aiden. But Gerte and Liz and... and Padraic did them all the time. Cryptograms, acrostics, crossword puzzles, word searches … even Malcolm used to do them if he was really fed up."

Huh. So Malcolm had lied to him...

"And so you, what, figured they'd show them to one another to figure them out?"

She nodded, shredding another tissue.

"Why didn't you send one to Gerte?" he asked curiously.

"Thief only has so many letters in it," she said wryly, "and Gerte... well, I don't think Malcolm ever got the best of her, not that I know about anyway."

Ah.

"Okay... so, what did Liz's note mean?"

Abbey bit her lip.

"Abbey, I know people tell you things in confidence but you were willing to remind them of certain things in your notes and now -"

"I need to tell you," she said sadly.

He nodded.

"Malcolm got Liz pregnant in college and he made her get an abortion."

"She told you that?"

She bit her lip. "No," she said finally, "Malcolm did..." She sniffed. "We were engaged," she checked to be sure he knew that. He nodded. "And we were talking about the future the way couples do and I said I wanted kids, lots of kids and he said... he said, 'not with me'.

"I though he was kidding at first. I mean, he knew I wanted kids and then suddenly there he was ranting about how kids were horrible, grubbing little things and that he'd made Liz get rid of theirs because he wasn't going to have one around milking the cash cow for everything...

"I was so shocked – you know? Here I'd been planning the perfect wedding with a man I thought loved me and suddenly I was seeing the... the underbelly of the beast."

"And _you_ broke off the wedding," Morgan said suddenly understanding.

"Yes."

"But he told everyone he broke it off... and since it was right when he lured Padraic to go work for him people thought he'd dumped you for Padraic and he did nothing to set them straight... and neither did you."

She shook her head, "I was too – stunned, by everything and then... well, the damage was done."

"And then not long after that you realized he'd stolen Maggie's patterns."

She nodded. "He's a horrible man, Agent Morgan. I was just too naive to see it before... but once I did, once I thought about all the things he'd done and was _doing_ I knew I had to put a stop to it."

Ahhhh.

"What about Aiden's note," Morgan asked quietly.

"Aiden," she shook her head. "He was so in love with Padraic he almost smothered him to death."

"Is that why Padraic broke up with him?" Morgan queried.

She nodded. "And then when it seemed like Malcolm left me for Padraic he went crazy."

"And you thought he wanted to kill Malcolm?"

"At first...but that's not what the note meant," she said smiling sadly. "Once he calmed down and figured out that Padraic and Malcolm weren't an item he set about wooing Padraic back... and it was working, too. When Padraic came to see me about dying yarn for him he said they were going to get back together again and form a new design company. He was so happy..."

"And so Aiden's note was about..."

"Them forming a new company behind Malcolm's back."

"Oh no!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You don't think that that's what happened, do you? That Padraic told Malcolm and Malcolm killed him because of it ?"

"I don't know who killed Padraic, Abbey. That's what I'm trying to find out."

"But...but it _had_ to be Malcolm!"

"Do you know something else you're not telling me?"

Abbey shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. Morgan sighed. Damn. He wasn't getting anywhere... wait -

"Abbey, what about Malcolm's note? What did you mean by it?"

"He'd been trying to pry Padraic away from Maggie for ages... and then suddenly out of the blue Padraic agreed to leave at almost the same time I broke off our engagement. Despite the rumors flying around I knew Malcolm wasn't gay, so there had to be some other reason why Padraic left Maggie and then I found out about the stolen patterns and for just an instant I thought that Padraic had been the one who'd stolen them, but that didn't make any sense. He had so much talent he didn't need to do that and then I thought about Malcolm and I knew... I knew it was him. He hadn't had a good idea in ages. He was floundering and Maggie was slowly taking his place as King... and suddenly I realized Malcolm was blackmailing Padraic and he was too afraid to tell anybody."

"You wouldn't have any proof -"

She shook her head sadly. "You're not going to catch him are you? He's going to get away with killing Padraic."

"Abbey, if Malcolm killed Padraic, he_ will _pay." Morgan said firmly. But he wasn't completely convinced that Malcolm had done it. There were still some other suspects he hadn't quite ruled out yet. Although Abbey _was_ right about one thing. Without any evidence no one was going to be convicted of anything.

And then from Maggie's booth Morgan clearly heard her say, "Oh damn it!"

"Something wrong?" he asked ducking into it quickly, Abbey right behind him.

Maggie shook her head, clearly exasperated. "No. It's just Malcolm's left his stupid fruity morning concoction in my booth and if he doesn't get it we'll never hear the end of it."

"Malcolm?" Morgan queried.

Maggie huffed a small laugh. "He came by a little while ago to 'kiss and make up'," she air quoted while rolling her eyes.

"Oh Maggie, you didn't believe him!" Abbey exclaimed.

"Not a chance. I wouldn't trust that snake any farther than I could throw him." She shook her head. "No, I think he really came by to try and find out if I knew anything else about the investigation."

"Well in that case let me take the drink to him." Morgan suggested. "I have some questions for him anyway."

"Be my guest," Maggie said handing the large container with the sickly sweet smelling drink in it over to him.

"Whew!" Morgan exclaimed, "what is _in_ this thing?"

"I have no idea whatsoever, and I don't want to!" Maggie said laughing. "But if you're going to ask him any questions you'd better hurry," she added. "The show starts in just a few minutes." And across the quadrangle they could see a group of anxious shoppers already gathering.

"I'm hurrying," Morgan said stepping out onto the walkway, the offending drink held as far in front of him as his arms could reach. And as he walked briskly away a pair of eyes studied the drink, an idea slowly forming behind them.

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 5


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 6

Alas, poor Yorick! _Hamlet, 5.1_

Morgan was half way to Malcolm's booth when he suddenly stopped dead, a thought he'd had earlier coming back to him. If Padraic had been murdered elsewhere, how had he gotten to the little alley between Maggie and Abbey's booths? At 5' 10" he wouldn't have been easy to move. Turning around he headed back the way he'd come, dumping Malcolm's drink into the nearest trash can before slipping into the small space between the booths. A narrow road ran behind the tents, and beyond the road were woods. Thick, overgrown woods. The perfect place to dump a body _if you didn't want it to be found... _

He turned his head and followed the direction the small road took. It curved directly from the hotel's parking lot, around the quadrangle, on which the tents now stood, and back into the parking lot again. There was no other way out.

Okay. So, assuming he'd been killed in the hotel, the killer could easily have put Padraic's body into his car, driven up to the back of the tents and dragged the body between them... except... there'd been no drag marks, which meant the killer was strong enough to have carried him.

Or... Morgan stared out across the parking lot his eyes drawn to where an exhibitor was loading last minute things from her car onto a cart... Or, he could have loaded Padraic's body onto a cart and wheeled him between the tents, he amended, which made more sense and also put everyone except for Maggie and Abbey back on the suspect list again as they were simple too short to have killed him.

Okay, so why leave the body out in the open when only feet away you could have hidden it?

_Because you wanted it to be found._

So why leave it here?

_To point the finger at Maggie._

Except Maggie hadn't killed Padraic, so who _had_ killed him, and where had they done it?

He looked back towards the hotel, maybe Detective Thompson had figured the _where_ part out by now. As to the _who,_ the overwhelming evidence led to Malcolm... and that was the problem, Morgan thought, _all _the evidence pointed arrow straight right at him. Even the location the body had been left in. It couldn't be that simple, could it?

He looked back towards the woods again. Where was this thing going?

On the surface it looked cut and dried. Someone had killed Padraic in the heat of the moment, a crime of passion - okay, that part he could buy. But, if the act of killing had been spontaneous, the disposal of the body had been cold and calculating, and someone had used it to point the finger at Maggie, and Malcolm was the first person who came to mind... or maybe... maybe someone was framing _Malcolm._ Morgan shook his head, either one was a possibility. He huffed out a quiet breath. It was time to review Penelope's 'facts' again - oh man, _Penelope!_ Damn. He spun around suddenly aware of the fact that while he'd been thinking the show had started and now the quadrangle was flooded with knitters and somewhere in their midst was his baby girl, spending money like crazy.

"Derek! Derek! Over here!" Penelope squealed, waving an arm wildly at him from the crush of people a short while later. With a laugh he made his way over to her.

"Well you have been busy, now, haven't you!" he exclaimed as she thrust several bags at him and said, "here!"

"Oh hush you!" she said grinning at him, eyes alight with excitement. "Come on," she added, grabbing his hand and towing him behind her as she plowed through the milling crowd towards a brightly colored booth. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing.

He looked. Okay... just what was he supposed to be looking _at?_ Skein after skein of brightly colored wool lined the makeshift walls and was piled high on a central table, just like every other booth they'd passed...

"Derek!" Garcia punched his arm.

"Ow, woman!" he mock growled, "what was that for?" and then he got it. Standing not three feet away was a very sheepish looking Dr. Spencer Reid.

Reid gave his little trade mark wave.

_Wha-?!_ And then the person beside Reid stood up, thrust two skeins of yarn in his face and asked very seriously,

"Which one do you like best?" and Morgan couldn't help but grin at the sheer panic on Reid's face.

"Be nice," Penelope murmured in his ear, as Reid's girlfriend, Molly Whittier, stared intently at him, waiting for an answer.

"Ummmm...," Reid glanced desperately towards them causing Molly to turn her head to see what he was looking at.

"Pen!" she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face, "yay, you found us!" And from the look on Reid's face not a moment to soon, either. He mouthed a relieved 'thank you' at Derek, who grinned back at him as the two women embraced.

"So, what?" Morgan asked as they broke apart, "I don't get a hug?"

"Oh you!" Molly laughed, before giving him a hug, too. Then her eyes fell on the bags he was holding. "Oh! You're miles ahead of me, Pen, what did you get?!" she exclaimed, diving into the bags to see what Penelope had already purchased, and for a few minutes the two women chatted about Pen's buys, before the conversation got around to the two skeins of yarn Molly was holding and their individual merits when weighed against the pattern she intended to knit with one of them.

Very carefully Derek took a step away. Lost in their conversation neither woman noticed. Just as carefully he took another and then another, Reid right behind him.

"Do you think they'll notice we escaped?" Reid asked tentatively a few moments later as several ladies, intent on entering the booth, cut between them.

"Not while they still have money to spend."

"Good!" Reid exclaimed. "Then I'm safe," and Morgan laughed.

"So how come you didn't tell me you were here when I called you this morning?!"

"It was 6:30, Morgan, you're lucky I even_ answered _the phone considering how I didn't even know we were _coming_ here until last night after dinner." He shook his head. "Molly got a call and next thing I know she's telling me our bags are packed. We didn't get in until about 1:30 this morning," he added tiredly.

The two men looked at each other, eyes narrowed, as the same thought crossed their minds. Turning in tandem they looked back towards the booth they'd just left to see Garcia smiling at them. Winking, she blew them a kiss, before turning back to the discussion at hand.

"_She_ called Molly..." they said in unison.

"It must have been right after we got those last cryptograms," Morgan added. "Well, I'm glad she did, man. I could use your help." And talking rapidly he brought the young genius up to speed as they headed towards the hotel in search of some much needed coffee.

"I think maybe we should check in with the lead detective," Reid said when Morgan was done filling him in. "See if he's come up with anything."

Fishing out his phone Morgan dialed the number the man had given him.

"They're right down the hall in the security office getting ready to review some feed from the parking lot cameras." He told him.

A few moments later the two men stepped into a small, discreet office.

"Detective Thompson, this is my colleague, Dr. Reid," Morgan said by way of introduction.

"Huh," Thompson said, "the puzzle solver," Reid nodded, but he was already bent over watching the video feed.

"This is Mark Soloway," Thompson said introducing the chief of hotel security, who sat at the console running the feeds.

"There," Reid said suddenly, pointing at one of the screens. "Two men, arguing just in that doorway."

"That's the doorway off the hallway from the weight room. It doesn't get much traffic," Soloway told them.

"Where is it from the ballrooms?" Morgan queried.

"It's the closest exterior exit, but you have to know it's there. Most people feed back into the lobby to leave."

"Can you tell who it is?" Thompson asked.

"It's pretty grainy. And I don't think there's any way to enhance the feed..." Reid answered. "About all you can tell is that one of the men is shorter than the other..."

The tape kept rolling. The argument got hotter, then abruptly the taller of the two men turned and stormed back into the hotel leaving the other man plainly fuming. The tape rolled on as the man began pacing, then the outside door opened again and a man stepped through it. A moment later the argument started all over again.

"Could you play that back again?" Reid asked. "Stop, there!"

"What do you see?" Morgan asked quietly.

"There," Reid pointed. "See, that? The two men came out of the hotel _already arguing_. Could you creep it forward again? Thank you. Now see how one of them goes back in and a few seconds later appears to come out again..."

"Appears?" Thompson queried.

"I think that's a different man..." Reid said, watching the tape intently as it continued forward.

"Looks the same to me," Thompson said gruffly. "What's the likelihood of this one dude arguing with two different people in the space of a couple of minutes?"

But Reid didn't answer him as the action on the tape abruptly became more violent.

"Could you play that back again?" Reid asked quietly a few moments later.

"Stop. Okay, there," he pointed at the screen, "the smaller man, the one I'm assuming is Padraic, he's the one doing all the yelling. Then right – there - the other man suddenly says something and everything changes. Padraic slaps him across the face..."

"And it looks like the other guy is laughing at him," Morgan said.

Reid nodded. "Until... umm... would you mind if I sat there?" Reid asked the chief of security. Soloway gladly gave up his seat to the tall, lanky genius.

Leaning forward and squinting myopically at the screen Reid quickly ran the tape forward again, skipping through what clearly appeared to be the other man taunting Padraic.

"...until, here," Reid went on, "Padraic slaps the other man again, and it looks like he's yelling something at him -"

"Something that clearly makes him angry, and he swings back," Morgan added, "knocking Padraic clean off his feet."

Reid nodded, running the tape slowly forward once again.

"Whatever he said, it really pissed that other guy off," Thompson added leaning in towards the screen.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, "he's really yelling now – aw hell," he added as a plainly terrified Padraic scrambled to his feet, darting for the doorway, only to be stopped by a pair of hands clamping down around his neck and dragging him away from it.

They watched in silence as the images rolling on the screen showed the taller man choking the life out of Padraic as he struggled uselessly to get free. In a matter of moments it was over. Padraic's body lay crumpled on the pavement as the unknown man stared in horror down at him.

"Looks like our killer's wringing his hands." Soloway said quietly.

"Trying to decide what to do," Morgan agreed.

Then with a quick shake of his head, the man peered quickly all around before slipping back inside the hotel, letting the door close itself behind him.

Reid stopped the tape.

"Okay, so assuming the victim is Padraic," he said leaning back slightly in his chair, "and seeing as how we also know he was 5' 10", the killer would have been around 6 feet... which counts out all of the ladies?" he asked Morgan.

"Yeah."

"So, besides Malcolm, who else does that leave?"

"Aiden..." Morgan said softly.

"The ex lover," Reid said nodding. "Well let's see what else there is to see," Reid murmured quietly turning back to the monitors. "Because _someone_ moved him..."

The grainy film ran on, Padraics body a barely discernible heap in the darkness.

"Ah," Reid said softly as a van pulled up and parked near the doorway. Someone got out and started briskly towards it only to stop abruptly. Slowly they walked towards Padraics body. A hand flew up towards their mouth. The seconds ticked by. Then the figure looked carefully all around as if thinking...

They watched in silence as the unknown person hurried back to the van, opened the sliding side door and took something out of it. A folding cart. Moving faster now the figure returned to the body, heaving it onto the cart they dragged it back to the van. In two quick decisive moves Padraics body disappeared inside, the cart thrown in carelessly on top of him. A quick click of a button and the door slid closed. The driver nimbly got into the van, started the engine and as the lights came on very carefully backed up... and kept right on backing up until it was swallowed by the night and drove away.

"Well that was interesting." Reid said leaning back and looking up at Morgan. "At least now we know it was a woman who moved the body." He added.

"We do?" Thompson asked.

"When the person first saw the body, their hand flew up to their mouth." Morgan said. "A man wouldn't have done that."

Thompson and Soloway both nodded.

"And they had a cart in their van so it had to be an exhibitor..." Reid went on, playing the tape back again slowly.

"Which puts Gerte and Liz back on the list, again," Morgan said sighing.

"Anyone know what kind of vehicles they drive?" Reid asked.

Thompson consulted a notebook.

"They both drive 2009 dark blue Dodge Grand Caravans..."

"And the van was definitely dark... just for arguments sake, what color vans do Maggie and Abbey drive?" Reid asked.

"Uh... Abbey's is silver and... Maggie's is – white."

"Well that answer's that."

"It looks like it's warrant, time, Detective. If you're lucky there should be something inside either Gerte's or Liz's vans that you can use as evidence." Morgan said tiredly.

"I'd be happier if I knew who _killed_ the man, not who moved him," Thompson said morosely.

Reid was playing with the tape again, running it back and forth.

"Well," he said tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear, "I don't know how much this will help, but the suspect is wearing a long dark coat of some kind. A dress coat, it looks like."

Malcolm, Morgan thought. Aiden didn't look like the dress coat type.

"And the person who moved the body is wearing... looks like a rain coat." He added.

"Huh," Thompson said, clearly puzzled about something. "At the beginning of the tape, you said you thought there were two _different _men arguing with Padraic..."

Reid nodded rewinding the tape.

"Here -" he said pointing. "They hold themselves differently and the first man is all up in Padraic's space while the second man isn't. Then there's the difference in what they're wearing."

Thompson shook his head. "They both look like black coats to me."

Reid shook his head impatiently. "Yes," he agreed, "they're both black coats, but look at the difference in their lengths. One comes to the knee and the other is thigh length."

Thompson shook his head and stared hard at Reid. "I never would have noticed... what are you some kind of a genius?" he queried.

"Yes, he is," Morgan answered for him.

And then Morgan's cell phone went off.

He had a text message from Penelope. It read "lunch, now, at the picnic tables, bring drinks, we're waiting. :)" He laughed.

Reid raised his eyebrows in question.

"It's apparently lunch time and our ladies are waiting." Morgan told him. "I'm sorry Detective, but we have to go."

Thompson nodded, flapping a hand at him, his mind clearly elsewhere as he began watching the tape from the beginning again.

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 7


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

The Knitting Game

Chapter 7

End Game

The girls were waiting at a picnic table in the shade, bags piled up all around them haphazardly.

"You're kidding!" Morgan exclaimed, pushing some of them out of the way so he could sit down beside Penelope. "Woman, that's enough yarn for two lifetimes!"

Pen laughed. "Hardly. And you better be nice, or I won't make you a cabled vest."

For a moment there was complete silence as Morgan stared at her as if she'd grown three heads,

then he started laughing. "No matter how much I love you, Penelope Garcia, you would never catch me wearing a cabled vest."

"What's wrong with cabled vests?" Reid asked frowning.

"Nothing, sweetie," Penelope answered, patting his hand. "They look delicious on you and Molly found a lovely purple cashmere to make you a new one in," she added, kicking Morgan under the table so he wouldn't say anything.

"Ow, woman! What was that for?!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Because I love you. Now eat your lunch and pretend to be thrilled about all the lovely yarn we just purchased."

"Yes, dear," he dead panned back at her.

"I just missed something, didn't I?" Reid asked Molly.

"Yes," she told him smiling at his puzzled expression. As far as she was concerned his complete inability to understand repartee was one of his more endearing traits, even though she knew it annoyed the heck out of other people. "Never mind," she added. "I'll explain it later, if you like."

The young genius huffed out a small breath before nodding, but his mind was apparently already elsewhere as he asked, "what shade of purple?"

For a second his three friends just stared at him before Morgan burst out laughing.

"Only you, Reid, only you," he gasped out helplessly.

"So," Penelope said once they were done eating, "how'sthe sleuthing coming?"

"Sleuthing?!" Morgan exclaimed. "Makes us sound like a pair of amateurs."

"And your point was...?"

"Be nice, woman!" he growled. "And, our 'sleuthing' is going just fine, thank you," he added primly.

"Stuck, huh?" she shot back grinning. "Tell Auntie Pen all about it..."

"I'll Auntie Pen, you!"

"Why don't we, um, go look at yarn, or something" Reid suggested to Molly knowing where this was headed.

"Oh, I don't know, this was just getting interesting!" she countered, grinning.

"Hush you," Morgan said, pointing a finger at her. "Do not encourage this incorrigible woman to -"

"_Incorrigible?! _I'll incorrigible you!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Are they always like this?" Molly asked Reid.

"Pretty much. Yes," he answered nodding.

"And they're not dating?" she continued as if they couldn't hear her.

Reid shook his head. "No, they're not."

"So... what are you two ladies doing for the rest of the day, then?" Morgan asked cutting Molly off from the dangerous direction her questions were heading.

She grinned at him and then winking said, " well... we still have a few more booths to hit -"

"Good," Reid said interrupting as he dug through all the bags of yarn Molly had bought, "because I don't see any yarn for socks in here."

"You know what _sock_ yarn looks like?!" Morgan asked in disbelief. He was met with a pitying stare. "Of course you do," he amended, putting his hands up. "My bad."

"It's on my list," Molly told Reid. "Turquoise, purple, orange, red and maybe some greens..."

"Not all in the same sock, I hope," Morgan said under his breath.

"Hush you," Penelope said laughing. "So, what are you two going to be doing?"

"Sleuthing," Morgan told her, grinning.

"Okay," Reid said quietly, once the girls had left, glancing around to be sure no one could over hear them, "so we _know_ Malcolm killed Padraic – "

"You sure about that?"

Reid nodded. "Since Malcolm and Aiden are the only two possible suspects and since from what you said Aiden doesn't sound like the dress coat type, then yes."

"My thoughts exactly," Morgan agreed.

"So how do we prove it?"

Morgan shook his head.

"Something tells me forensics isn't gonna come up with anything."

"So that leaves – sleuthing," Reid said smiling shyly.

Morgan huffed out a laugh. "Sleuthing it is then, kid," he said grinning. "Any thoughts on where to begin?"

"Yeah, actually, with Aiden. I'd like to know what he and Padraic were arguing about and if it had anything to do with Malcolm."

Morgan nodded. "Fair enough, Aiden it is, then."

He was waiting on a customer when they arrived at his booth, counting out change from a sale. "Be right with you," he called over his shoulder, before doing a double take and looking back at them again, his mouth forming a small, 'O' as he recognized Morgan.

"Um, Janine," he called out softly, glancing down behind the cloth covered table that served as a counter, "could you come help, please. "

A teenaged girl with spiked blue hair poked her head out, looked critically at Morgan and Reid before announcing, "yeah, they could use some help. Well, maybe not the pretty one -" she added looking at Reid as she uncoiled herself to her full height of a whole five feet, "but Muscles here could use a makeover, me thinks."

"I don't think they're here to buy knitting patterns," Aiden chided quietly. "They're the police."

"Oh," Janine said, eyeing them flatly. "Come to arrest Uncle Aiden, then, for a crime he didn't commit?" she asked sarcastically.

"Jan-!"

"Nope," Morgan said unfazed by her attitude, "we just need to ask him some questions."

"Huh... okay, but he didn't do it."

"Who did?" Reid asked curiously.

"He did," she said caustically glaring at a man who was watching them from two booths down. "Malcolm - Edwards!"

"Janine, watch your language!" Aiden exclaimed, embarrassment coloring his face.

"Ah geez, Aid, they're all grown up, they can take it!"

"It's not ladylike!" Aiden said.

"Do you see me wearing a dress?!" Janine shot back at him, arms spread wide to reveal a torn black t-shirt over torn black skinny jeans, a neon pink scarf dangling carelessly from her neck.

Aiden sighed heavily. "Just... watch your language around the customers, _please?_" he begged.

"Just as long as you remember that these men are not your friends," she countered seriously. "I watch t.v.," she added glaring at Morgan and Reid.

"She's not a bad kid," Aiden said a short time later as they sat down at a table in the now deserted picnic area. "She's just a little scared. I'm all the family she's got left."

"And she's afraid we're going to get things wrong and arrest you." Reid said nodding.

"I didn't kill Padraic." Aiden's voice cracked.

"We _know_ that." Morgan said quietly.

"We were getting back together," Aiden went on. "Opening a knitting shop, settling down, -"

"So what happened last night?" Morgan interrupted.

"Last night?"

"You were arguing about something, out by the parking lot..."

Aiden bit his lip.

"Aiden, we _need_ to know what you two were arguing about."

"Malcolm," he said hoarsely. "The man was freaking out because Paddy was given credit for designing that beautiful coat in the fashion show."

Reid shook his head, lost. "I'm sorry – didn't he design it?"

"Yes, he did, but Malcolm always takes the credit for things in his line, always..."

"Until last night."

Aiden nodded. "He went ballistic. Absolutely crazy. Told Padraic that was never to happen again...he said... he said he would ruin him in the industry if it did."

"And Padraic believed him."

Aiden nodded.

"Okay, I get that bit, but what were _you _two arguing about?" Morgan queried.

"I told him to just get on with it, tell Malcolm that he was quitting him."

"And Padraic didn't want to?"

"He wanted to wait until we had the shop up and running. Until we had a whole new line of things ready to go on the market. New things, different things, things that were obviously _not _Malcolm's."

"And you disagreed with him."

"I didn't see the point of waiting any longer. Malcolm hasn't designed anything new in years. He takes young designers and sucks the life out of them. I didn't want that to happen to Paddy. I kept telling him that Malcolm was full of hot air, that no one would believe any lies he told about him and certainly not that he had stolen anything, much less from Maggie! But he was frightened of him... Malcolm can be – intimidating." Aiden sniffed. "You know what the last thing was that I ever said to him? Grow a pair! And now he's dead and I can't take it back, ever."

"Uh, Aiden," Reid said softly. "When you went back inside the hotel last night, did you see anybody?"

He shook his head.

"Walking back to the lobby -" Morgan prodded.

Aiden closed his eyes, trying to remember. "There wasn't anybod- oh!" He opened his eyes. "Someone went into the weight room right after I opened the outside door. But I didn't see who it was. All I saw was their coat as they went through the door. It sort of whipped out behind them like they were in a hurry."

"What color was the coat?" Reid asked quietly.

"Black. It was a black, full length over coat."

"You realize we still don't have any proof that Malcolm did anything, or was even there." Morgan said rubbing the back of his neck as he watched Aiden walk away from them.

"Aiden! Wait up!" Reid called out suddenly, jumping up from the bench and hurrying after him.

"How did you hear that Padraic had been murdered?" He asked breathlessly coming to a halt in front of him.

"Umm... I was in the lobby, just hanging out, talking to people, waiting for Paddy to come back in again...I thought... I thought he'd just gone for a walk and then..." he scrunched up his face thinking, "then Liz came in from outside, through the main doors and told me..."

"Liz." Morgan said, glancing at Reid as they walked back towards the hotel in search of more coffee. "That makes sense."

Reid raised his eyebrows in question.

"The person who moved the body was cold and calculating. That description fits her to a 'T'. And the timing's about right, too. We probably stumbled across Padraics body not long after she moved it... maybe within minutes of her driving away..."

"Why leave him where she did? Why not leave him by Malcolm's booth?"

Morgan shrugged. "I got the impression she's not overly fond of Maggie, either. I'm not sure she cared which way suspicion went."

"You realize we still don't have anything on Malcolm." Reid said, spooning sugar into his coffee.

"Yeah... unless... unless we can get him to incriminate himself and I think I know someone who'll help."

"So, who's going to be your new patsy when you steal your next designs now that Padraic's dead?" The voice asked slyly, from directly behind him.

Malcolm's head whipped around so fast he almost sprained his neck.

"What's wrong, _Mister Edwards_...didn't think anyone else knew what you did?" Janine Kavanaugh asked, grinning unpleasantly at him. "And before you get any ideas about killing me, too, Padraic told lots of people about what you did."

Several people in Malcolm's crowded booth turned their heads.

"I didn't kill Padraic," Malcolm hissed.

"Liar, liar pants on fire," Janine sing songed garnering the attention of even more people in the booth.

"Get out," he ordered furiously. "Get out of my booth, now!"

"Nah, I don't think so," Janine said, shaking her head. "So what are you gonna do, grab me by the neck and strangle me, too? That's what you did to Padraic, isn't it? What happened, Malcolm baby, he tell you he was through? That he'd had enough of you and was gonna start a new company _without _you?"

"Get out _now!"_ Malcolm ordered turning red in the face.

"That must have really pissed you off. Huh," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "The ungrateful little bastard. Just brushing you off after all you'd done for him... uh, remind me what it was you did again?" she queried. "Oh, I remember! You _blackmailed _him into leaving Maggie... was that right after you stole her new designs or before?" she taunted. "A lot of good it did you, though, huh. She won the magazine spread anyway – that must have really pissed you off, _Malcolm, _after all you did to try and ruin her -"

"You don't know _anything!" _He suddenly yelled at her. "He was _nothing!_ Just another little two bit wanna be, until I took him and made him into something!"

"The only thing you made him was dead!" She shot back angrily.

"That was a mistake! I never meant to -"

"Gotcha," Detective Thompson said stepping out from behind one of Malcolm's displays. "Malcolm Edwards you are under arrest for the murder of Padraic Wilson. You have the right to remain silent, -"

"So, you think I'd make a good detective?" Janine asked Morgan a little while later as she dug into the hot fudge sundae he'd gotten her as a reward for setting up Malcolm.

Morgan cocked his head and considered her.

"Yes, I think you would be." He said finally.

"Huh...how about an FBI agent?" she teased.

"I think any law enforcement agency would be proud to have you."

She scraped up some hot fudge and savored it slowly before saying, "Nah, I think I wanna be a knitting designer like Uncle Aiden. He's just way cooler than you. Seriously, dude, you gotta loose the whole "muscle guy" thing."

"You think?"

She nodded. "Now your girlfriend, she is seriously cool," she said jerking her head towards where Penelope was standing with Reid, Molly and Aiden.

Morgan opened his mouth to correct her, then closed it again. There were some arguments he just wasn't ever gonna win.

"You change your mind, call me," he said instead.

"Okay, but - _Oh My God!_" she suddenly exclaimed, looking over Morgan's shoulder, her mouth dropping open. "They are -"

"Seriously gorgeous," Penelope finished for her as the _Haute_ models came strolling through the crowd towards them. "They look like angels, no! They look like elves – like, Lord of the Rings elves... Rivendell elves!"

"Go away," Molly told Reid, "because I think I'm going to do something really girly, like squeal and I don't want you to hear me!"

And suddenly all three girls started giggling as the models swept past them on their way to Maggie's booth.

"_Seriously?_" Morgan asked.

"Go away," Penelope told him. "Just go... there is no way you could ever understand how guys like that are the stuff fantasies are made of..."

Morgan looked at the two male models, then back at Penelope again.

"No!" she said before he could speak. "Just go. Now. Shhhhh!"

"Well, the vans were completely clean," Detective Thompson said stepping up beside them a short time later as they stood in an out of the way spot watching the photo shoot. "So unless you have another clever plan for flushing out our body mover, she's gonna go free."

Across the quadrangle Liz Nolan and Gerte Meyer stood together watching them from in front of Malcolm's booth. In her right hand Liz held a large plastic cup.

Morgan frowned. He'd seen one like that before somewhere... then Penelope and Molly swept up to them squealing about a party Abbey had invited them all to and all thoughts of a brightly colored cup disappeared.

"And," Penelope went on chattering excitedly, "the models are going to be there!"

"Terrific," Morgan said drily. "I can hardly wait."

"Be nice," Penelope chided, "or I'll knit you a pair of mismatched socks."

"Oh, those are the best kinds!" Reid said enthusiastically. "That way you never have to worry about finding a matching pair!"

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 7


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor any of the characters in it, more's the pity. I'm just taking them out to play with and promise to put them back more or less in the same condition that I found them.

Epilogue

"Hey Morgan," Reid said a few days later, as he hung up the phone. "That was Detective Thompson."

"Really? What did he want?"

"It wasn't what he wanted, it was what he had to say. Malcolm Edwards was found dead in his holding cell the day after he was arrested. He was murdered."

Morgan sat up sharply.

"Murdered?"

"Yeah. I'm just pulling up the autopsy report now..." Reid leaned forward to read the screen squinting slightly as he did so. "Huh. The contents of his stomach were... some kind of overly sugared fruit drink and... a deadly dose of arsenic."

And suddenly Morgan flashed on a drink he'd thrown away. An overly sugared fruity drink in a an overly bright plastic cup... the same kind of cup he'd seen Liz Nolan holding right in front of Malcolm's booth right after he'd been taken away.

"Damn," he said shaking his head. "She's gonna get away with it!" he exclaimed and talking swiftly he told Reid about the fruit drink and the cup.

"No way they'll ever find the cup now, or the poison. Who knows where she even threw them away."

"The perfect crime," Reid said nodding.

Morgan shook his head again.

"I don't know, man. I got a bad feeling about this. She got away with moving Padraic's body and now this. I only hope it stops there..."

Hey everyone. Thanks for reading The Knitting Game. I hope you all enjoyed it. There's a new "Game" in the works, so look for it later this year... will "our hero's" catch Liz Nolan? Will Penelope knit Derek a brightly colored vest? Will Reid ever learn to wear matching socks... stay tuned, weirder things have happened!

The Knitting Game©2011 Hilary Designs 1


End file.
